


Free Course

by pollybywater



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-19
Updated: 2006-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 21:38:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/181415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollybywater/pseuds/pollybywater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan is always surprising Methos...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Course

Methos felt the Highlander step up beside him, standing with him shoulder to shoulder. He resolutely ignored the responsive tingle Duncan MacLeod's proximity always gave his skin - and his quickening – ruthlessly subduing that long-accustomed ache of _want_.

Taking another soothing drag off the thin brown cigarillo he held between his fingers, Methos rested his elbows on the terrace railing, let the smoke roll over his tongue, inspected his landscaping and mused on agriculture.

This was a particularly exquisite blend; tobacco heavy with nicotine and mixed with just enough _cannabis sativa_ to give him a hell of a head rush, not to mention a damned good buzz.

Which he'd sorely needed since Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod had shown up at his home a few hours ago.

"I didn't know you smoked," MacLeod said, his voice clearly amused as he watched Methos exhale.

"I rarely indulge," Methos replied.

"I've noticed that about you." Plucking the cigarillo from Methos' fingers, MacLeod took a leisurely drag of his own. "That's good shit," he allowed in a drawl as he slowly exhaled, startling Methos into laughing out loud.

He looked up at MacLeod, who was watching him and smiling back.

And gods above and below, _that smile_.

He almost gasped out loud. Duncan MacLeod had never smiled at _him_ exactly like _that_ before. Not in that 'Methos, I think you're beautiful and I want to fuck you. Right now' kind of way.

It was breathtaking.

Astonished, Methos gaped at his friend.

MacLeod snickered at him, handing back the cigarillo. His fingers trailed over Methos' in a blatant caress as possession exchanged.

Then he bumped his hip into Methos companionably.

"You're so surprised. Why?"

That warm honey voice slid past Methos' brain and curled directly around his balls. It always had.

Hoping to hide the way his hands were suddenly shaking, he took another drag, releasing the smoke in perfect rings ... just so he'd have an excuse not to meet those intense dark eyes.

"It _is_ a little unexpected, MacLeod," he allowed lightly, reasonably; tapping off the ash before offering the cigarillo.

McLeod took it between thumb and forefinger, hitting it lightly while his free hand reached out to grasp Methos' retreating one; fingers covering his, thumb caressing his skin.

That simple touch threatened to take Methos to his knees.

The Highlander's fingers were warm and their grip firm as they slid around and past his knuckles, turning him, twining their hands together and mating their palms. Fighting with himself not to flinch or yank away, Methos shivered with a sudden hot flush; skin all over prickling while his quickening began to sing.

He'd always suspected it would be like this between them. He wondered if MacLeod had. If he could have any idea.

"Mac, this- you- we-"

Methos’ throat closed up with something that felt an awful lot like anticipation.

"Methos, this was always there. I just had to learn to see it." MacLeod said all this casually, taking a second, deeper drag to follow this confident declaration.

Methos didn't resist when Duncan turned them face to face and leaned into him, standing so close their lips brushed ... exhaling a thin stream of smoke that Methos accepted with the gasp he hadn't allowed himself earlier.

His cock filled so quickly that he had to groan, unable to hide his responses. Pale wisps of grey smoke rose from his mouth to drift between them like escaping spirits; Duncan's mouth still hovering ... brushing back and forth in subtle explorations and barely, barely touching his.

Teasing him. Luring him. Seducing him. Making Methos want to beg, which he'd done for no man in some millennia.

Making his quickening thrum like a heartbeat around them.

Methos could withhold no part of himself from Duncan MacLeod. He'd never learned how - and MacLeod was right, of course. It had always been like this between them.

Incendiary.

A slick wet tongue dragged over his lower lip and melted him whole.

With no memory of doing it, Methos found his hands clenched in Duncan's shirtfront as he was apparently doing his best to loom over the man while simultaneously dragging them both off the terrace and into the sitting room.

"Be very certain, Highlander. I won't be toyed with," he growled, hardly recognizing his own voice.

Tossing the cigarillo into a glass bowl, Duncan grabbed Methos by the upper arms and spun him around, putting his back against the wall. Methos landed with a solid thump and barely managed to keep his skull from cracking.

Demonstrating his own skill at looming; Duncan covered him; pushing into him, flesh and quickening ... hot and hard and fully aware of the power that vibrated through them like a bass drum beat.

Certain. Sure. Inevitable.

Methos said something - he never knew what, later - when Duncan took his wrists and pinned them against the wall over his head. Duncan's hips circled; weight grinding, possessing Methos with need.

Duncan’s hard erection pressed against his and Methos sucked in a breathy moan. Switching to a one-handed grip, Duncan's other hand grasped Methos by the jaw and less than gently; holding them face to face so they could stare into each other's eyes.

The Highlander's expression was stern and determined, sending a quiver along Methos' spine that felt much like willful submission.

"It's you who'd do well to be certain, Methos. You'll not soon be rid of me."

That hand slid to his head and pulled their mouths together, the Highlander every bit as implacable in this as Methos had always known him to be about everything. It was a kiss that felt like worlds colliding and stars falling out of the sky and the end of days, taking him over.

Duncan's hot mouth mastered him so completely Methos lost his internal grip on his quickening; feeling it bleed out of him and circle around them in swirling sheets of heat lightning.

It left him weak. Lighter. _Young._ Five thousand years of quickenings had become for Methos an intolerable burden ... but it was a burden Duncan MacLeod could share and easily manage - now - after Kronos. After Connor. After Kell.

Duncan MacLeod was the Champion, after all. He could easily handle Death.

Sobbing into Methos' mouth, Duncan shook against him as that wild energy washed over them both, soaking back into their skin painlessly, ecstatically; abruptly tossing Duncan over a precipice neither he nor Methos had known they were near.

Duncan cried out in shocked, hoarse pleasure; a sound Methos gladly swallowed down, shuddering through his own orgasm ... leavened of a good bit of his quickening, which had sought a natural level with Duncan's and then settled. The sensation of balance itself was so good Methos couldn't restrain his echoing physical release, feeling it pour through him like lightning.

Slick tempting tongue and warm satin mouth and he was coming hard and his Highlander was handling him just fine just fine filling him up making him whole - while their quickenings meshed and melded and _held_.

Methos heard a keening whine and realized it was him, helpless held when Duncan kept kissing him through. The first blinding flashes were passing, and Methos was nowhere near finished. He wasn't going soft and neither was Duncan; their nerves on quickening fire.

Still denied the use of his hands, Methos rubbed himself against Duncan's body like an appreciative cat, opening his eyes to catch the sweet fan of black silk lashes shadowing dusky flushed cheeks.

Methos wanted to shout with the joy of this. Finally, one to match and mate and equal him. One to whom he could safely yield all that he was.

Finally, after all these long years without.

"Mine," was all he said, smiling into that kiss as he picked a word that sounded clear even when muffled. Duncan's lips smiled back, and those remarkable eyes opened, their brown depths stunned and happy.

"And you're mine," Duncan managed, sliding his mouth to Methos' ear. "I want to fuck you."

 _'I want to fuck you'._

Methos' knees buckled. He hit the floor with a loud thud, dropping so quickly that a startled Duncan failed to keep hold of his wrists. Duncan's hands landed on his shoulders with a squeeze while Methos opened Duncan's belt and trousers as quickly as he could.

And he was quick.

"Methos!"

"Let me," he breathed, begging, already baring his prize. Duncan's cock was as demanding as the man himself; magnificent, rosy and slick with come.

Dragging Duncan's clothes to his thighs, Methos ran his hands over that coveted ass and sighed its perfection. Mouth watering, he looked up at Duncan's awed-speechless face and took one of Duncan's hands; guiding it to the back of his head ... encouraging Duncan's fist to clench in his hair.

"Please, Duncan."

Methos licked his open lips.

Duncan surrendered a groan and did precisely what Methos wanted him to do, which was shove inside his mouth with no further ceremony. Methos palmed Duncan's balls and welcomed the heavy length of that luscious cock as it banged into the back of his throat.

Swallowing gratefully, Methos shook through a resultant spasm of arousal strong enough to feel orgasmic; his nerves winding even tighter when Duncan's hand tightened in his hair, pulling him onto Duncan's cock and making him take it all.

Oh, yes, he loved this; loved everything about it. Loved Duncan MacLeod.

He always had.

Withdrawing slowly, Duncan gave him time to sample and taste and whine with pleasure as he sucked and licked the rigid flesh in his mouth; savoring the lingering rich flavor of Duncan's semen. Wanting it directly from the source, Methos swirled his tongue over the head and teased the slit, making sure to look up at Duncan as he did.

"My god, your mouth," Duncan whispered, staring at him with unexpected reverence in those dark eyes. Fingers lightly stroking his face, Duncan traced a path from Methos' temples to lips; then he took hold of his own needy shaft, rubbing the tip over Methos' bottom lip.

Methos flicked his tongue out and sucked, moaning when Duncan's cock slid back into his mouth. Thick and weighty, it satisfied something inside his mind to have Duncan stroking smoothly in and out of his throat; that alternating suffocation drawing choked-off hungry moans from him that were making Duncan whimper.

Duncan arched over him, his muscles straining; one hand braced on the wall, one hand tangled in his hair. Methos intended to see him just like this - preferably naked - and very often. His Highlander was almost weeping with how good Methos was making him feel; Duncan's pleasure written beautifully all over his face.

Seeing that transcendent expression and knowing he was the reason made Methos feel authentically godlike. That he could give Duncan this - and so totally get off on it himself, because he was about to shoot in his jeans hands free - touched things in him he'd forgotten he _could_ feel.

Nothing had ever felt like this, anyway. Nothing in five thousand years.

He swallowed Duncan's cock completely, greedy for every bit, wanting it all; breath strangled as that slick hot flesh swelled even larger inside him. Fuzzy balls tightened against his chin, and he felt the precursive buzz deep within Duncan's body that heralded orgasm. Methos swallowed again, rejoicing inside when Duncan started coming - hard, roaring with it - bucking out of control and seriously fucking Methos' mouth.

Then Duncan - as always - did the unexpected thing, pulling away and shooting the last all over him ... warm come spattering Methos' face, his open mouth, and his throat.

It put Methos over. He had time for an odd little sob before he went blind and deaf with his own climax, hands convulsing on Duncan's ass as ecstasy shredded him. Leaning forward, nuzzling Duncan's still twitching cock with his last bit of consciousness, Methos shook so hard he would have fallen save for Duncan's grip in his hair.

Duncan slid to his own knees and took them both to the floor, falling on Methos with predator's grace; teeth on his throat, hard muscled thigh between his legs and pressing pressing...

Methos threw back his head and screamed like he was going to battle as more pleasure tore through him.

He didn’t remember much else for several long moments.

***

Lazy and content, he came alert slowly, Duncan's solid presence just possibly the only thing keeping him on the planet. Duncan lay sprawled half atop him, strong arms caging his shoulders ... breath puffing against his jaw; hands cradling the back of his head and keeping it off the floor, shuddering against him with the occasional aftershock.

And for the first time in over five thousand years, Methos felt sheltered. Protected. Even cherished.

He was smiling before he opened his eyes

"There's the look a man dreams of putting on his lover's face," Duncan said hoarsely, lifting his head a bit.

"Hmm. Let me see yours, then."

Gazing up at Duncan, Methos had to wonder if his own expression could possibly be half so goofy and triumphant and satisfied and purely _happy_ as his Highlander's.

Duncan was right. It was a sight Methos had long dreamed of seeing, blazing with love and adoration all aimed directly at him.

Amused and deeply touched, he lifted his mouth to collect a kiss, licking over the exquisite curve of that smiling bottom lip.

"I love you, my own," he murmured in a language that hadn't been heard on earth for too many years. Duncan knew what he'd said, just like Duncan _always_ knew him. Duncan knew even when he said he didn't know who and what Methos was.

Duncan had spoken his name and called him into being.

“I love you, too, Methos,” came the whisper into his parted lips as Duncan kissed him again.

And for a very long time.

***

"So ... that's why your 'no immortals' policy ... and that's why part of Kronos' quickening split off and went back to you. It was your quickening," Duncan eventually remarked; apropos of nothing, unnecessarily proving Methos' point.

"Yes."

Part of Methos had been glad to have his quickening back, as burdened as he’d felt by it. The rest of him had hated everything about everything then, too busy damning himself for ever having known Kronos at all. The man had been addicted to Methos' quickening and far from strong enough to bear its effects.

"I am sorry for-"

"I’m sorry, too. It's behind us now, Methos. It doesn't matter."

Duncan nuzzled into the side of Methos' head, his voice a comforting rumble; mouth teasing Methos' ear with husky words and approving hums.

Suddenly painfully aroused, Methos clutched Duncan's upper arms, arching into that hard body as his nerves fired automatically, going back to fully erect so fast his whole lower body hurt.

Duncan sucked in a quick breath and groaned it out just beneath Methos' ear. Methos just about flew apart at the sensation and had to laugh at them both.

"A bed this time, perhaps?"

Duncan chuckled into his skin, making Methos squirm.

"Mmm, good idea, since I don't intend to let you out of it for the foreseeable future." With a lithe twist that Methos appreciated watching, Duncan moved to his feet and drew Methos up with him.

After taking the time to be certain his legs would hold, Methos lifted Duncan's slacks and boxer briefs ... deliberately leaving Duncan's cock framed in the dark material.

"Exquisite," Methos murmured, head spinning as he stroked the length of flesh with his open palm and felt it grow rigid at his touch. Duncan quivered against him, face buried in his neck. "I want this in me."

"Bed now, Methos."

Dancing out of Duncan's reach, he stripped off his sweatshirt and tee, grinning over his shoulder at his _very_ attentive Highlander, whose hot eyes were pinned on his derriere.

Regrettably, Duncan's feet were apparently also pinned - to the floor.

Methos paused as well, opened his jeans, and gracelessly mooned his beloved.

"Highlander. Do get a move on."

"I'll show you moves," Duncan growled into his nape just before herding Methos towards the bedroom, where Methos was quite gallantly swept off his feet and thrown onto the bed. Duncan stripped off his jeans and trainers with deft, determined speed.

Half kneeling beside Methos' feet, Duncan inspected his nude body like a conquering warlord. The open need in Duncan's face made Methos writhe untouched, his erection thumping against his belly.

"You want me that much," Duncan whispered, staring like he'd never seen Methos, like he was something precious and new.

That look unraveled him.

"Like air. Take off your clothes," he breathed both demand and plea. Duncan stepped back, tearing himself away like it hurt, fingers faintly trembling as he started to disrobe. The look in those blazing eyes parted Methos' thighs.

He grabbed his balls for a delaying tug as Duncan quickly shed clothes.

"God, Duncan. Look at you."

Duncan's skin was golden, light and shadow faithful to the curves and lines of muscle and bone. His body was sweat-damp and flushed and that perfect cock was swollen and anxious. Pre-ejaculate oozed to slick the ruddy head even as Methos watched, taking his breath when his mouth watered with memory.

Duncan MacLeod wore rampant arousal very well.

"You have to fuck me now," Methos informed him sincerely, meaning it like the planet was going to fall off its axis otherwise.

"In my own time," Duncan replied, swooping down on Methos' cock ... fulfilling yet more long-held secret fantasies when that perfect mouth closed on his straining flesh.

"Oh, fuck!" Methos wailed, coming so hard and so unexpectedly it felt like it was being beaten out of him. Duncan slurped him up and the pleasure was devastating; like nothing Methos had ever felt - and how incredible was _that_ ? - practically daring him to pass out again.

Vision greying from the sheer rush, Methos fought to orient himself. He couldn't miss another moment of this.

He heard himself speaking and wasn't sure what the hell language he was speaking; aware only of his need to have Duncan in him, begging with it - _now, in me now, please, now, fuck me now!_

"Look at me, Methos," Duncan demanded hoarsely and Methos forced his eyes to focus, gasping when he saw Duncan slick himself with what had to be Methos' own ejaculate. Fixing his eyes on Duncan's nearly black ones, Methos whimpered when those big warm hands palmed his ass cheeks and spread him apart, opening him.

Methos willingly let himself be maneuvered, welcoming his profound vulnerability; to this man, alone of all others. Duncan tipped Methos' pelvis and splayed his thighs apart and back; stern grip curling him up and arranging him to Duncan’s whim.

"Duncan, Duncan, please!"

Duncan entered him in one not-too-fast-and-not-too-slow burning stroke; Methos yielding perfectly to his lover. He was filled just roughly enough for the pain to hone his pleasure – pleasure so crippling his dry balls ached to come again already.

Methos cried out with harsh satisfaction.

Duncan groaned, shaking, holding himself motionless; barely leaning into Methos, who knew Duncan was wrestling back climax.

Methos could be of no help there. He too was lost: in the way his body was clenching around that thick hot cock, feeling it press deep within; throbbing and searing and pulsing ... in the way their quickening buzz wracked his spine and razed his rational mind.

"Methos," Duncan called desperately.

Beyond waiting, Methos lifted his arms over his head, put his hands against the headboard, and _shoved_ ; screwing himself onto Duncan with a wordless raspy shout. Duncan's hands clutched at him, fingers biting into his skin so fiercely that Methos could feel capillaries break.

Duncan started bucking in and out of him; control shattered and whimpering with it.

Duncan was coming.

Inside him.

"Oh gods," Methos prayed and lost it; his climax dry and hard and endless as a quickening storm, flashing inside his head and striking him sightless.

***

Duncan slurped a buttery shrimp off the ends of his chopsticks, making a noise that Methos might have found arousing if he weren't so completely fucked out.

"So, Methos. Glad you indulged?”

"Oh, yes. I plan to indulge often," he declared, quite diverted by the glossy sheen that slicked the curves of Duncan's lush mouth.

"How often?"

"Hmm? Oh, often,” Methos said a bit vaguely, watching Duncan lick his lips.

"Huh. It’s good we're immortal, then," Duncan said, laughing.

Very good, indeed, Methos agreed, abruptly deciding he wasn't completely fucked out after all.

End  
19 Aug 06


End file.
